


Fools Gold

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-21
Updated: 2007-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-06 22:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt fishing and <a href="http://gundam-echoes.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gundam-echoes.livejournal.com/"><b>gundam_echoes</b></a> room that echoes #2 challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fools Gold

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Inspired in part by a comment from [](http://windsorblue.livejournal.com/profile)[**windsorblue**](http://windsorblue.livejournal.com/) who said she wanted to see a fic about Trowa as a mercenary scavenging for supplies.

The boy looked around the battlefield, eyes slowly scanning the abandoned mobile suits for any signs of activity. The main bulk of the area had already been picked clean of most anything that was salvageable, but he was not in search of credits or clothes. The captain of the mercenary corp the boy lived with would make sure that anything his size would reach him. The boots he wore had mysteriously appeared outside his tent only a week ago. They had been shiny and almost new so the boy had taken great care to buff away the shine using mud and grass.

Lithely he climbed up on the body of the closest mobile suit, carefully checking inside before jumping down into the cockpit. The coppery brown blood stains on the walls and seat told the story of the previous owner, but failed to elicit even a glance from the boy. Bending almost in half, he fished around under the seat and in the small gaps, looking for tidbits that the scavengers had left behind.

In a few days, the suits themselves would be collected and dismantled for scrap and spare parts. Once that happened, anything that was not usable to make repairs on the corp's mobile suits would be trashed. The boy knew this from experience. Once of his jobs, when he was not behind the controls piloting his machine into battle, was mechanic's assistant. Truth was, he had been repairing suits seemingly since he could hold a wrench and did more than the man who he was supposed to be assisting.

His search yielded nothing of value and the boy quickly moved onto the next one. This time he found a ring that had rolled under the pilot's seat. It went into the duffle the boy carried before he continued his methodical search.

Five suits later he hit the jackpot, a hidden compartment built into the base of the pilot's chair. Inside were several magazines with naked women on the covers. They went into the duffle though the boy barely spared them a glance. Despite his long legs and decidedly preadolescent frame he had yet to develop an interest in women or sex of any kind. The magazines, though, would be good bartering material for other things he might need or want. There were men in the camp who would be willing to pay quite a bit in trade for a solo trip to the land of joy.

Two unlabeled DVDs joined the magazines, as did a framed picture, three candy bars and some ration bars. Long fingers brushed the back of the compartment, touching cold metal then paper. Slowly they withdrew, clutching what was revealed to be three somewhat dog-eared paper back books. A pale shadow of a smile passed over his features as the boy looked through them, determining these were ones that he hadn't read. Opening an inner pocket the books were stowed, reverently, to be perused at a later time.

Looking up, the boy took in the darkening sky and climbed out of the suit. He had just enough time to do a cursory check of the few machines that he had not searched yet. It would mean returning to camp after dark, but the boy wasn't afraid. He removed the gun from the waistband of his jeans, verifying that it was fully loaded and the safety off. Picking up his duffle, he set off. It had been a good day so far: now if there was a sewing kit to be found amongst the rest of the twisted metal his shopping list would be complete.


End file.
